Without Prayer
by melting waffles
Summary: Alfred joins the small but dedicated police force as a rookie detective. His first real case comes as a string of bizarre murders that have been plaguing the city, and the deeper he involes himself in order to solve it, the more he is faced with the possibility that one of his very own teammates is a likely suspect. USUK
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia or any of its characters.

A/N: This is my first time trying my hand at a Hetalia fanfic so if there are any discrepancies, I'm really sorry. I'm still trying to get a feel for the characters, especially trying to match them in this type of setting. Also, this is an AU set in 19th century Europe in no particular country or city but influenced mostly by London. It will be a USUK pairing, so if that isn't your cup of tea, please be warned. All that aside, I hope you enjoy the story and any comments or critique is most certainly welcomed.

* * *

Rain poured from the darkened and gloomy skies overhead, harsh and chilling. Alfred clutched onto his coat tighter, soaked to the bone as he made his way through the maze of whispering citizens. Absently, he wished that he had thought to bring an umbrella, not even noticing the gray skies when leaving his house. With a sad sigh, he managed to squeeze past the last line of people crowding the narrow alleyway, congratulating himself on fitting past the robust noblewoman who had just about taken half of the width of the path. He thought he would suffocate, trying to get past all of her girth, not to mention the ruffles upon her dress.

"Ah! Arthur!" he exclaimed happily, dashing towards the Englishman and popping himself right under the other's umbrella, hardly caring that he was already thoroughly drenched and flinging droplets everywhere that caused Arthur to cry out in surprise and protest. He was greeted with an irritated scowl, paying it no mind and simply grinning. "Hey! How's it going?"

"Get out from under my umbrella, you twit!" Arthur stated, attempting to push the other man back out into the rain. He was unsuccessful as their newest recruit clung onto him, unwilling to let go.

"No way! It's raining so hard, and I forgot my umbrella," whined Alfred, a sneeze engulfing his last few syllables. "Besides, what's wrong with sharing? C'mon, don't be so stingy, Arthur."

Fingers clapping onto his temple in a show of exasperation, Arthur let out an annoyed sigh, conceding despite his pride wildly shouting at him to just shove the ungrateful brat back out into the rain. It wasn't his fault that the idiot forgot an umbrella, after all.

"Fine, but let me go already. You're sopping wet and getting my clothes damp as well."

Alfred acquiesced with a victorious grin. It quickly dimmed, however, upon remembering why he was here. With muted blue eyes, he asked, "So, there was another murder?"

The abrupt change in demeanor caught Arthur off guard, but he kept up the pace, nodding. Keeping the umbrella steady under the pound of rain, he said with a small coat of frustration to his words, "Yes. It happened last night, though that's about all we know as of right now. Ludwig and the others are still investigating the crime scene and collecting evidence."

"Was it the same guy?"

"I'm not too sure."

Alfred frowned now, watching as Ludwig ordered a few of the other officers about.

"Why aren't you over there?"

"I've been waiting for your late ass," Arthur retorted with a snort, one eye closed. However, he held up a stack of papers, dotted with rain droplets thanks to Alfred, and said, "I've been going through the evidence that we have so far on this case and comparing it to the other two."

"So, it is the same guy, isn't it?!"

"There are a few differences, but it looks like a possibility."

Brows furrowed in some sort of misplaced anger and determination, Alfred took a step forward, ready to leave the umbrella's shelter, when an outstretched arm blocked his way, stopping him. He glanced over at Arthur with a confused look matting his face. "Huh? What's the deal, Arthur? Let me through."

"It's best if you don't see the body," the Englishman advised, a serious look clouding in his eyes as they stared straight at the younger male.

"Geez, I'm not a little kid anymore! You don't have to keep looking out for me," Alfred retorted with a wave of his hand, attempting to still push forward despite the blockade.

"It's true that you're probably too young, but that's not what I meant," Arthur elucidated, still holding the other back with a stern look in his eyes. "You shouldn't be in such a hurry to see something so horrific. You'll lose sight of what's really important."

Alfred stopped, eyes dropping to the stone ground. He hadn't necessarily been in a hurry because of excitement or anything equally disrespectful but rather so that he could hurry and catch this person and bring them to justice. So that no one else would have to die. But Arthur was right. It wasn't good to try and rush things along. To simply see the victim's body in order to collect data without any regards to the fact that they were human, not just victims, it would be wrong of him. It wasn't why he had joined the force.

"Sorry, you're right," he amended with an embarrassed smile, rubbing the back of his head with a sheepish, gloved hand. "But, ah! What you said is surprisingly mature and thoughtful. Totally unlike you normally!"

"What the hell is that supposed to mean? Huh?!"

"Nothing, nothing!"

"Looks like the two of you are having fun," came a gentle voice from in front.

"Ivan! I didn't even see you over there," remarked Alfred, barely noticing how Arthur stiffened, making a noise crossed between a whimper and a growl and hiding behind him. "How's it going?"

The taller man smiled, responding, "We've just about finished up. Gilbert is going to take the victim's body back to put her back together, and then we're going to go see him afterwards."

"Put her back together?" repeated Arthur with a raised brow.

"Mmh. She's been taken apart, you see," the Russian answered, matter of fact despite the calm tone and ever present smile, although it had a troubled edge to it. "They took out all of her internal organs too and made quite a mess of her. Kiku couldn't look at her for too long, so he went ahead back."

"What are you all doing just standing here?" asked Ludwig as he stepped forward and into their line of sight. He was just as drenched as Alfred, the collar of his coat up to keep the rain from splattering onto his neck and down his back. "Did you just get here, Alfred?"

"Yeah, sorry about that. When I was about three blocks away from my house, I realized that I forgot to feed my cat, so I had to run back home and do that! But then he got mad at me for forgetting in the first place and scratched my shirt so I had to change it before I could leave," he explained with a laugh.

"Right…" Ludwig cleared his throat. "Anyways, did you finish with the comparisons, Arthur?"

Arthur handed him the stack of papers, saying with a shrug, "Just about. I didn't have much to go on though, so it's probably not entirely accurate just yet. But basically, from the evidence we have now, the probability is fairly high."

"Damn, if only we could catch this guy," muttered Alfred vehemently, eyes narrowed with unbridled vexation.

Ludwig placed a hand on his shoulder with a knowing nod. He understood how the younger man felt, but in these times, it was always good to keep a calm head instead of being muddled down with disappointment.

"In any case, let's head back. There isn't anything more we can do here."

* * *

"Of course I put her back together properly! How rude!" cried the coroner with a glare. "I'm great, you know. Only someone as wonderful and marvelous as me could perform such a feat!"

"I find it inappropriate that you're allowed this job," Arthur deadpanned as he stared at the haughty man. Gilbert wasn't necessarily part of the force, but as the only coroner and mortician around, it was inevitable that their work would tie closely together. Normally, he didn't mind the other man, finding it relatively easy to get along with him outside of work. However, once they stood in their respective professions, something about Gilbert's egotistical attitude didn't sit right with him, irritating Arthur to no end.

"Oh c'mon, don't be like that, Arthur!" Alfred remarked with a good natured grin as he slapped the other on the back. "He's just like you, in my opinion."

Easily throttling the other, Arthur yelled, "What part of me is just like him?! I'm nothing like that pompous jerk! He's so conceited and stupid and only ever talks about himself!"

"Like I said, exactly alike," laughed Alfred, barely noticing the dangerous aura filling the room and the irritated fist headed straight for him.

"Anyways," the older blond began, ignoring Alfred's whines of pain from behind him, "what do you have to report?"

"Nothing really." Gilbert shrugged. "This body was rather boring, actually. He took all of her internal organs out, to keep I presume, and then sewed her back up. It was a really ugly job though. I mean, the stitch work was not bad, but he used a waaaay too thin needle and ended up bruising the skin!" he complained with a grumble.

"Was there anything unusual?"

"Oh, you mean besides the missing organs and the manners to sew her back up?" With a snort, Gilbert continued, "Yes, actually. He replaced her eyes with glass ones and filled her up with sawdust. Maybe to make up for taking her organs? Although really, I guess he wanted to immortalize her as a doll."

Brows coming together, Alfred echoed, "A doll?"

"That's right," the mortician answered, hands on his hips and a cocky tilt of his brow. "I really don't know why you guys are acting all surprised, though. It's not like she's the first one to come through like this."

"Technically, she is," Arthur shot back. "All the other victims were left with their organs and eyes intact."

"Actually," started Gilbert, almost gleeful in his knowledge, "they weren't."

Thinly veiled surprise was thrown about his face as his jaw dropped in response. Immediately, however, his eyes narrowed, suspicion storming within his lime green hues as he said brusquely, "Don't try to trick me, you bastard. The other two victims—"

"Only had their throats sliced?" finished Gilbert with a nasty grin that set both officers on unease. "Yes, the two victims that you're thinking about did only have their throats sliced. But what makes you think I haven't gotten bodies in here of this same motif?"

Within an instant, Arthur had the mortician by the collar, eyes blazing with fury at his nonchalant and rather delighted pitch. He snarled, "What the fuck have you been hiding here?"

"Calm down, Arthur!" Alfred exclaimed, grabbing the older man's shoulder and attempting to pry him apart from Gilbert. Once they had been separated, he turned his attention to the coroner, asking in a rushed breath, "What did you mean by that?"

"I'm surprised you all haven't noticed, but I suppose if the families hadn't thought anything of it, there would be no need to call on you bunch," remarked Gilbert with a sort of mocking sigh.

"C'mon on, Gilbert. Tell us what you meant that you had gotten other bodies with the same motif," appealed Alfred gently, a look of soft sincerity alighting his facial features.

Gilbert made a small noise of disapproval but yielded at the pure earnestness of the younger boy's eyes. He hadn't seen such a thing, wholly untainted, in quite some time. With his arms crossed, he elucidated, a haughty curl of his lips, "I've been getting bodies that similarly have all of their organs removed and replaced with sawdust. And, of course, their eyes are replaced with a set of glass ones that match the original in color. Almost frighteningly so."

"Is there more to it?" questioned Alfred, pushing the other man upon seeing the unfinished look resting upon his face.

"Why yes, there is, actually. With the first body, the incision was made right down the chest. Freaking hideous place to make it, in my opinion. But excluding that first body, all the other incisions were down on both side, from the under arm all the way down to the hip and one straight across, below the belly. And of course, there's the matter of the clothes."

"What does that have to do with anything?" Arthur muttered.

"They're all usually dressed in the finest set of clothes when brought to me. The type some aren't able to afford unless they're a noble."

Arms crossed, Alfred hummed thoughtfully before asking, "Exactly how many people have come in like this? And why haven't the families said a word to the police?"

"So far, about four, including your latest find. As for the ones with families, I'm going to assume they didn't know they were murdered. Quite a mysterious, isn't it? How can someone die and then suddenly reappear in their own bed a few days later without anyone ever taking notice?" His smile seemed to widen, the edges of his lips curling upward with the presented question.

"Hey, Gilbert, do you think I could get a look at one of them? I want to see those glass eyes that you were talking about," the rookie requested.

"Only if you tell me how great I am."

Arthur landed a sound punch on the arrogant man's head, eye twitching at his stupidity.

Rubbing his head, Gilbert led them to the back which stood just as dark and gloomy, muttering, "I _let_ you do that so you wouldn't feel so weak and stupid about yourself." He headed for the coffin sitting atop a wooden platform that resembled a modest stage. Pulling off the cover, the mortician remarked as he pried apart the eyelids with his thumb and forefinger, hardly fazed "Here's a boy that came in. I left them in so that his sockets wouldn't look so sunken in."

Arthur was the first to approach her, mouth set into a thin, tight line as he examined the small boy. He looked to be no more than twelve years old, still just a child. His eyes hardened at the thought of anyone being able to do such a thing to someone so young.

From beside, he could hear a sharp noise followed by a quick intake of breath. Turning his eyes over to his teammate, Arthur could see the turmoil wracking his former charge. He could understand Alfred's emotions, though. As a veteran, he had seen his own share of horrors and nightmares that plagued the hearts of humans. In his first few years, it had been difficult to handle, and he had always felt such a raw anger and disappointment heating his blood with each passing case. He knew what the human heart was capable of to the truest extent.

With a sympathetic pull of his lips, Arthur placed a calming hand on the other's shouldering, feeling the tremors.

"You don't have to put yourself through all of this, Alfred."

"Let's go," Alfred suddenly exclaimed as though he had been deaf to the statement, turning to Arthur with such resolute, unwavering blue eyes that the other man was taken aback by the sheer intensity of his emotions. Jaw set, he remarked with equal fervor, "We have to hurry and catch this guy to protect the children."

Before Arthur could get in a word, the younger blond nodded once as though resolved in his own words and headed for the exit, seemingly satisfied. For what, Arthur wasn't quite sure. All he knew was that there was something shining within Alfred's eyes, and it pushed him to go after the dolt.

"This kid's got a real hero complex, doesn't he?" remarked Gilbert as he leaned forward, elbows resting on coffin whose lid he just replaced.

Arthur rolled his eyes, saying with a sigh eating his words, "Yeah, he does. Thanks for the help, Gilbert." He followed after, missing the mortician's singsong voice calling after them.

"Better be careful," he warned to the closing door as the bells jingled their exit, a tinted smile edging his lips, "or else he'll fall into disillusionment and lose that sense of justice to this world."

* * *

"An entirely different person?" repeated Ludwig with an arched brow as he regarded the other two with bemusement.

"Yes, it would appear so," Arthur reported with a grim look. "Gilbert told us of three other bodies that came to him in a similar condition as the one we found two days ago. All of them children."

"Three other children? How is it that we've never noticed the other victims?" asked Kiku, put off by the idea of it as evident by the alarm threaded in his words.

Head tilted thoughtfully, Ivan commented with a keen eye, "Well, it's possible that no one thought of their deaths as murders. After all, Gilbert didn't think to mention it to us either, which means that their manner of death was made to seem quite natural."

"Even if that's true, there's still really no way of telling unless he claims another victim," remarked the German with a rough sigh, looking as though the words were equally unpleasant on his tongue.

"That's exactly what we're trying to prevent though!" Alfred argued vociferously, slamming his palm down on the table. "We can't just wait for more people to die so we can get all the pieces together! We're supposed to be protecting these people, and that means that we need to find this guy and bring him to justice now before anyone else has to die!"

"Unfortunately, it's not that easy. We don't have entirely enough information regarding this matter. Not to mention, we're still trying to figure out who is committing the other murders," reminded Ludwig, rubbing his brow with a weary hand. He spread out the papers currently sitting in front of him, staring at each with a sharp frown. Everyone seemed to sit in similar silence.

"Then, I'll take this!" the young man declared suddenly, eyes brimming with determination as all attention turned towards him. "I'll find the guy that's doing this to the children and make him face justice for his crimes!"

"Hold on, you're way too young and inexperienced to be handling something like this!" Arthur quickly protested. "It's barely been a few months since you joined, and you're already saying such imbecilic things. Besides, you don't even know where to begin. Don't think about trying to be some hero and be realistic, you idiot."

"Well, then, you can help me!"

"Don't just drag me into this on your own!"

Raising a hand, Kiku spoke demurely, "I think I agree. With Arthur's assistance, surely letting Alfred take this case on wouldn't have too serious of repercussions."

Ivan nodded in agreement, smiling as he said, "I agree as well. Alfred hasn't been able to have a case that really challenges his limits. It might be good to let him see the kinds of things that we've all already experienced."

"You guys can't be serious! Knowing him, he'll just mess things up and charge forward recklessly like a bloody lunatic!"

"Come on, Ludwig! I can do this, and everyone else thinks so too! It'll be one less thing for you to worry about, and I'll have this guy caught and sitting in jail by dinner time tomorrow! What do you say?" pushed Alfred with a wide grin of confidence, completely ignoring Arthur's spluttering in the background.

There was a look of mild discomfort passing upon their superior's face before he closed his eyes, sighing heavily. It wasn't a decision he wanted to make, knowing how Arthur felt about the matter and feeling uneasy at putting their youngest recruit into a potentially dangerous position, but in such times, personal feelings had no place. The capture of the criminal, the protection of the citizens, those were what ranked the highest. With a single nod, Ludwig gave in, saying sternly, "All right. I'll leave this case to you, Alfred, Arthur. But be careful, and don't rush into anything you can't handle. Understood?"

"You got it!" Alfred beamed. "This guy is no match for me!"

Arthur grumbled his displeasures, quickly getting into a one sided argument with the noisy American. But despite himself, he wanted to believe in that childish yet unwavering determination, hoping that it would never fade of twist because of this job. He hoped that Alfred, in the very least, would come out unscathed.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Thank you for the lovely reviews, favorite, and follows! I've taken quite a long break from writing, so I do apologize for any rustiness on my part. Any comments and critiques are very appreciated. Anyways, please enjoy!

* * *

"Why would you give him this case, Ludwig? You know how dangerous this could be for Alfred. He doesn't have enough experience yet," Arthur exclaimed, bristling at the other man as he caught up to him just outside. The rain had subsided for the moment, but the clouds stayed, unmoving in their blanketed rule over the sky.

Ludwig glanced over at his arrival, lighting a cigarette as he spoke, "You want me to move him?"

"I do! He can't just be thrust into something like this without any warning."

"So you think easing him into this sort of thing is the right way to go about it?" the taller man asked, letting the tobacco stick dangling from between his lips. "There's nothing that will ease him into what we do. Everyone will be cruel, and everything will be unkind. But Alfred chose this path on his own. He's got a strong, believing spirit that hasn't been whittled away like the rest of ours. Even if you want to keep protecting him, you can't keep the world away from him any longer."

The man was unusually long winded in his conversation, a visible testament to how much faith he had placed in Alfred. A faith Arthur wasn't sure he could match. Not because he could not, but simply because he did not want to. He had known Alfred since he was a child, had watched over him after the death of his parents. And despite Alfred growing into the shallow end of adulthood and as a result, pushing the older man away, Arthur still cared about the boy. Even if he was annoying and sometimes all the Englishman wanted was to deny his existence. Or at least shove a sock in his mouth so that he would shut up.

"I know that, but—"

"Look, Arthur, I won't take Alfred off of this case just because you ask. I've already kept him on the smaller end of our workload as per your request, but we don't have the time or manpower right now to spare," the German laid out with a stern look, as though he had expected better from Arthur. "You're his partner so if you're that worried, you should watch over him closely to make sure that nothing happens, right?"

Arthur clicked his tongue in annoyance at the jab, thick brows knitted together. He crossed his arms, opening his mouth to retort when a loud slam of the door interrupted. The two men looked up, spying the very blond they were speaking about. He jogged over to them.

Ludwig gave Arthur one more stark look before dropping the cigarette and crushing it under his boot as he walked by.

"Ah, hey Chief," greeted Alfred as he reached them, looking over his shoulder as Ludwig merely raised a hand in greeting and disappeared towards the door the other had come out of. "What's up with Ludwig?"

"He's just being his usual uptight self," Arthur muttered with a dismissive wave of the hand.

"Oh, okay. More importantly, we've got work to do," chirped Alfred with far too much enthusiasm, hands curling into excited fists. "I figure we should head back over to Gilbert's before anything else and try to find out as much as possible about those people that came in. Then, we can find their families and question them about anything unusual. I mean, it just doesn't make sense that no one would notice someone being murdered. It's not exactly something you can overlook. Maybe they're hiding something. Do you think this could be a grand conspiracy?"

It was difficult to believe Ludwig regarded this clumsy, loudmouthed, and irritating man with so much potential. Perhaps though, it was Arthur who was being difficult and unreasonable all this time. As Alfred's former guardian, he knew that the young man would make a fine detective. He was strong and his love for justice and heroes was just as passionate as the first day he had met him. There was nothing about Alfred that would suggest otherwise. Except that ignorant innocence of his. That was something Arthur wanted to fiercely protect. It was what separated Alfred from everyone else, would separate him from everyone else even after years of doing what they did.

Stuffing down his own insecurities into the furthest crack of his mind, Arthur shook his head. Now wasn't the time. Half listening to Alfred's endless babble, the older man decided that all he could do at this point was keep his former charge safe.

"Let's just get to Gilbert's already."

* * *

The bell chimed as they pushed opened the door, the smell of formaldehyde wafting through. Alfred wrinkled his nose, eyes swishing from side to side as he examined the coffins littering the room. A shiver bolted down his spine as he thought of ghosts coming out from them and followed closely behind Arthur.

"Oh, back so soon?" Gilbert greeted them with a smirk and an arm. Alfred blanched at the sight of the appendage waving nonchalantly at their arrival.

"What the hell is that?" asked Arthur with distaste, leaning back and away when Gilbert thrust the severed arm towards them as though to shake hands. The morbid man laughed when he saw Alfred jump back, eyes wide.

"Just my latest project. She came in with her arms chopped off, the poor lass. I'm fixing her up so she'll be presentable. I can do anything, you know."

Alfred shuddered. Gilbert was a funny guy, but he seriously could not appreciate the man's profession. How someone could sit in a musty old shop that smelled like death with corpses just lying around, waiting to be beautified, was utterly beyond him. He didn't even like being in hospitals much less a mortuary. Still, he was here on a mission. Swallowing down his fearful discomfort, Alfred parted his lips to speak only to emit nothing more than a small squeak of his vocal chords. With a small shake of his head, he cleared his throat and tried again, "G-Gilbert, we need to see that body again. The boy and that girl that we brought in to you a few days ago."

"Oh, them again?" he uttered, bored by the repetitious request. With a loud, dramatically disappointed sigh, Gilbert turned on his heel, heading to the backroom. He waved the hand in a gesture to follow. With a glance at one another, both detectives followed after the man.

"Are they still here?"

"Right where I left them. They can't move, you see," was his snarky reply.

Placing the arm down on a passing table, the mortician pulled back the sheet to reveal the victim from three days ago. She laid there, quiet, and for a somber minute, Alfred could feel his heart clench within his chest as he stared at her. She was so young. Far too young for something like this to have happened to her. It was sickening, churning his stomach uncomfortably with each turn.

"Do you know her name?" asked Alfred suddenly, interrupting whatever conversation Arthur and Gilbert had been partaking of while he hadn't been paying attention.

Arthur regarded him with a quirked brow, opening his mouth. However, Gilbert silenced him with an outstretched hand cutting in front of him, seemingly studying the younger blond with silent eyes. He seemed to have found whatever he may have been searching for, the corners of his lips dragging upwards.

"Isn't that really something you guys were supposed to find out? It's your job to tell her family and whatnot, right? I just make her beautiful. Or did you forget that she had a name? Not that she'll be needing it anymore."

Alfred looked distressed for a long second, as though the thought had never occurred to him. And it honestly hadn't until he laid eyes upon her. All that repeated in his mind was that he didn't know. He hadn't asked about her name back when he had shown up that rainy day. He hadn't even bothered to find out when he had officially taken on the case, too caught up in his own excitement at being able to be the good guy. Be the hero that caught this villainous character. It pinned his heart with a dart of ugly shame.

"I-I just forgot," he lied, trying to cover it with words that brought no comfort.

A look of pure giddiness lighted Gilbert's face. He spoke with a spring in his words, enjoying the other's too naïve virtue, "Her name's Lili Zwingli. She's got a brother. He came in yesterday to identify her after one of your people told him about what happened."

"A brother? Do you know his name and where he lives?" Arthur asked, elbowing the man upon seeing the smug look on his face.

"Basch Zwingli. Don't know where he lives," the man answered with a shrug of his shoulders. "Not really my job, after all."

Readying himself, Alfred asked, voice stiff but words lax as though he wasn't certain about his request, "Can I see her eyes?"

Gilbert peeled back the eyelid of her left eye, informing them, "Glass eye. It's not too bad handiwork. Obviously, I could have done _much_ better, but these aren't half bad. They're acceptable."

"I really don't think that's something you should be bragging about," commented Arthur with a brow quirked disapprovingly.

"Yeah, yeah. You're just jealous of my awesome skills. How about it, Arthur? I could make you a pair for when you die. I'll even change the color of your eyes if you want me to because I'm just feeling that generous and in awe over my awesomeness," cooed the mortician with a pompous grin.

"Stay away from my body when I die," Arthur quickly warned in response with a finger pointed at the other man.

"Don't be jealous. If you beg me, I might just consider making you about half as awesome as me. When you're dead, of course. I don't do living bodies."

Slinging an arm around both men's shoulders, Alfred exclaimed with a laugh, "Stop talking like such creeps, you two! Besides, neither of you can match my own sense of awesomeness, so there's nothing to fight about."

"I really hate you," Arthur muttered, shrugging off the arm. "Anyways, show us the other victim."

With a snort, Gilbert led them over to the same platform, pulling off the lid of the coffin once more as he spoke, "This one is Peter Kirkland. Sounds like he might be related to you, Arthur."

The man in question shook his head, saying with complete certainty, "No, I don't think so. I don't have any relatives."

"I thought as much. The shrimp's an orphan, after all."

Alfred sucked in a quiet breath. He knew what it was like to be a child left alone in the world. Shaking his head clear of the unpleasant memories, he asked, "Know anything else about him?"

"Why do I have to do your jobs for you lazy bastards? Go ask the local orphanage, if you're so interested. I don't know anything," the mortician remarked lazily, leaning against the coffin.

Leaving Alfred to inspect the body, Arthur asked, "Who were the other two?"

"You're really working me today, aren't you? Be grateful that I'm feeling so generous today," he grumbled, arms crossed. "Got a kid named Raivis Galante about a year ago, and the other one didn't have a name. Don't remember much about them."

"I suppose we should first go talk to Lili Zwingli's brother before we find out about the others," Arthur remarked with a sigh as he jotted the other names down. He would have to ask Kiku to check into them later when they got back. "Hey, Alfred! Hurry up, we're leaving."

"Pft, who made you the leader?" replied the blond, sticking his tongue out with all the maturity of a six year old. Ignoring the look of outrage on Arthur's face, he turned back to the young boy, Peter Kirkland. Fate was cruel, but he would do everything he could to give this boy even the smallest bit of assuagement so that he may rest peacefully in heaven. With a small smile, he stated, voice unusually soft, "I promise I'll find the person who did this to you and give you the justice that you deserve, Peter."

* * *

Knocking on the door with one hand, Alfred used the other to push the Brit away, rearranging the man's cheek as he continued to yell at him.

"I'm the lead detective in this pair! I should be taking charge," Arthur complained as he attempted to slip past and to the front. He had been expecting and hoping to be a mentor of sorts to Alfred, passing down his years of knowledge and seniority to the younger man like when they were younger. However, Alfred was taking into the role quite naturally, not even needing him. It was infuriating, to say in the least.

"Don't be so strict! We're partners, which means we're on equal standing." Alfred laughed good-naturedly, hardly fazed that Arthur was whirling his arms wildly in a vain effort to land a hit on him. Arthur was always fussing over little details like titles and other unimportant things, in Alfred's opinion.

Before any argument could be further thrown, the door clicked open, being drawn backwards. Immediately, Alfred turned back around with his full attention, saying, "Hello! We're with—"

The barrel of a shotgun was aimed fight for his head, the man holding the other end of it clicking the safety off. His finger, however, remained off of the trigger. For now, was all that the pair could assume as they both swallowed.

"Uh, hello," Alfred started once more, a nervous sweat hidden behind his smile. He grabbed Arthur's arm and pulled the man forward as a shield to which the man let out a noise of equally nervous protest. "We're the detectives trying to solve your sister's case. I'm Alfred Jones, and this is my partner, Arthur Kirkland. Would you mind putting down your gun?"

Dark green eyes narrowed, as though in thought to the words, before the gun was lowered begrudgingly. He spoke sharply, "What is this about?"

Easily shoving the still jumpy Arthur aside, the blond repeated, "Arthur and I are the detectives who were put on the case that involved your sister, Lili. We just came here to ask you a few questions that would help us. Can we come in, Mr. Zwingli?"

After a long moment of thought, Basch sidestepped to allow them entrance into his home despite still looking quite unconvinced. Alfred happily accepted the invitation, dragging Arthur inside with him as well as the other was still mildly in a daze. Basch led them to the living room, taking a seat as he motioned for the two detectives to do the same.

Glancing around, Alfred noticed a picture of the young girl sitting atop the mantle, her hair longer and twisted into two braids. He frowned marginally at the bright smile, realizing it had been stripped away from her now.

"So, Mr. Zwingli, do you know anything about the man who did this to your sister? Or why?" Alfred asked, point blank and with an entirely too serious face.

Arthur slapped a palm into the side of Alfred's face, thrusting him down into the arm of the couch with an irritated glare. With a whisper far too loud to be considered private chatting, he gritted out between his teeth, "Hey! You can't be that blunt, you prat! Haven't you heard of manners? This is a delicate situation; read the damn atmosphere!" He quickly turned his head back to Basch, saying apologetically with an awkward chuckle, "I'm terribly sorry for my partner's lack of manners. He's a rookie, you see, so he doesn't quite understand the procedures and such. What he meant to say was that we are deeply sorry for your loss."

Basch simply stared, deadpan. His shotgun sat in his lap, untouched but a stunning reminder of what could easily happen should they tread too far with dirty boots.

Arthur coughed and discreetly elbowed his partner in the ribs.

"Ah, I'm sorry about not taking your feelings into consideration earlier. I just thought that making small talk would be pointless since I'm sure that you're grieving over your loss. But really, we are very sorry for your loss," Alfred amended, rubbing the back of his neck with an embarrassed hand. He was always jumping the gun, and judging from the murderous look on Arthur's face, he had messed up quite badly. A wave of guilt jumped through his body as he reminded himself to slow down.

"It's all right," Basch said tonelessly, looking over to the lone window in the room with heavy eyes.

Determined to make up for his careless and completely thoughtless blunder, Alfred asked, voice gentle, "If it's not too much trouble, could you tell me a little about her, please?"

"There isn't really too much to tell. She's been missing for a year now, so when I heard that they had finally found her, I was prepared for the worst," stated the man, solemn. "If only I had been more watchful over her, something this perverse might not have had to befall her."

"Hey now, don't say such careless things! It's not your fault!" Alfred suddenly exclaimed as he rose to his feet, surprising the other two occupants with his firm tone. "I may be overstepping my boundaries here, but it's not your fault that your sister died! It's mine!"

From beside him, Arthur's eyes widened at the statement. He grabbed a hold of the younger man's elbow and whispered angrily, "What do you think you're doing? Just let it go, you imbecile!"

But Alfred paid him no attention, not even attempting to get out of his grasp. It was wrong for him to sit back and let Basch blame himself for his shortcomings. He had become a detective in order to bring peace to the city. He had wanted to keep everyone safe so that no one would have to lose a loved one to senseless violence. Standing firmly, he said, "As someone who swore to protect the people of this city, I failed her. It's because of my carelessness that you have to suffer, not yours, Mr. Zwingli. So if you want to blame someone, please, blame me."

"Alfred…"

There was a blanket of silence thrown over the men, Alfred staring at Basch with genuine and unwavering blue eyes. He had meant what he said. Basch had no blame upon him. To Alfred, Lili's death was something he should have been able to prevent. He should have been able to save her.

"I don't blame," Basch spoke finally with a stuffed throat as he looked away, "you for my sister's death. I gave up on the police months ago, after all. When I came to ask for help, they told me to fill out a report and said that they would get on it as soon as possible. But we aren't important nobles, so naturally, nothing was done. Since the police wouldn't help me, I spent all of my time searching for Lili, but I could never find anything. She just seemed to vanish."

"The police did nothing?!" Alfred repeated, eyes impossibly wide with shock and a minuscule of outrage beginning to dot his pupils. He turned to Arthur who seemed less surprised by the statement, a look of discomforted understanding simply settling upon his face. It baffled Alfred as to how the other man could be so calm when such a disgrace was happening within their own ranks!

"It's quite common," Basch informed, flat.

"Common? That can't be! How could they do nothing? Who are they? Do you remember? I'll get Ludwig to fire them right on the spot!" yelled Alfred indignantly. He couldn't believe that even the police would be so petty as to not help someone in need. It was utterly despicable for someone who was supposed to be dedicated to serving and protecting the city! Even if Basch couldn't remember them, he was going to make sure that each and every last one of them would be fired.

Pulling Alfred back down onto the couch, Arthur attempted to cool the other's incensed temper, saying with a weary hand patting his shoulder, "Calm down, Alfred. We're not here to talk about any of that, remember?"

"Oh, right! Sorry. But I will find them and make sure that they receive the proper punishment!" insisted the hot blooded man, blowing out a puff of incensed air from his lungs.

"Anyways," Arthur interjected, continuing down their previous line of conversation, "You mentioned that she had gone missing over a year ago?"

"Yeah, almost a year ago. She went out grocery shopping by herself. Normally, I would accompany her, but that day, I had to work late and couldn't be there. By the time I had come back, she wasn't anywhere to be found. I asked the store's owner but he said that she hadn't stopped by." Basch stopped to gather his thoughts, eyes pointed towards the hardy but worn out coffee table.

Neither men spoke, just waited for the other to continue.

"I went out looking for her, but she wasn't anywhere near our neighborhood and none of our neighbors had seen her. That was when I went to the police, but they just gave me some forms and told me that she probably just ran away."

"Did you notice anything strange about your sister before her disappearance? Did she act differently? Or maybe meet someone?" asked Arthur with a creased brow.

Basch shook his head in the negative. "There was nothing different about her, and I taught Lili to never talk to strangers. If she had been approached by someone, she would have told me."

"Is there anyone who would want to hurt her?"

"We didn't have enemies, if that's what you're trying to get at," Basch stated easily with a hard glare pinned upon the empty space right next to Arthur's ear, fingers gripping the cold metal of his shotgun. "Lili was always very kind to everyone, and she was very sociable. If there was anyone who bore a grudge towards me or Lili, I would have known and tracked them down personally to question them."

The Englishman nodded. "Sorry, I didn't mean to offend you. We just have to consider all the possibilities. Well, we don't mean to take up any more of your time, Mr. Zwingli."

Alfred jumped to his feet upon seeing Arthur rise up from the sofa, blue eyes thrown over his shoulder at the lonely man still seated in his faded green colored sofa. He could see the weight of sorrow held upon the other's thin shoulders, crushing him. It was an image of the human that he hadn't encountered since he was just a child, that encompassing loneliness threatening to swallow everything in its wake. It lit a small pang of familiarity in his chest as his eyes drifted back over to the lonely picture on the mantle.

They narrowed as Basch stood, moved his weary limbs to show them to the front door as the image rippled.

"Thank you for your help, Mr. Zwingli. We will be in touch should anything new arise," Arthur said with a terse nod, crossing the threshold of the front door and descending down upon the meager two stairs that connected the house to the road.

Alfred stepped out as well, hesitant with his own movements. He wanted to say something. He wanted to be able to offer some sort of comfort to Basch. To himself.

Whirling around just as he crossed down the last step, Alfred said, "I couldn't protect her, but I swear that I'll find whoever did this to her. I promise."

Basch didn't speak a word, simply finished closing the door with a tired sort of nod that Alfred couldn't see.

Letting out a puff of breath, Alfred turned back around to Arthur, lips missing the usual smile and instead pulled into a thin, taut line.

"Hey, Arthur."

"Yeah?"

"Lili Zwingli's eyes were the wrong color."

A thick brow sloped downwards at the sudden statement, puzzled. "What are you talking about?"

"I saw a picture of her on the mantle. In it, her eyes are clearly green, but when we saw her at Gil's place, she had blue eyes," explained Alfred, a hand holding his chin in thought. "Gil said that the glass eyes matched the original eyes perfectly, so why would he mess up on Lili's?"

"It could just be a mistake," reasoned Arthur, glancing up at the sky. It looked like rain was looming upon them once more.

"I don't think it is…" The American let out a small hum. It didn't make sense for Lili's eye color to be changed on a whim. For someone who was as meticulous as this person was making himself out to be, a simple mistake of eye color wouldn't be so easily made. There had to be some sort of meaning to changing them when making her glass eyes.

"You want to go for some coffee or tea?"

The sound of the other's voice pulled Alfred out of his thoughts, blinking at the proposed outing. He was on the cusp of a potentially figuring out a key factor in their case and Arthur wanted to go out for tea?

"It's been awhile since the last time we went, and I know you like sweets so much, so I thought we might go get some. Plus, it'd be good to take a break," Arthur clarified, a hint of red filling his cheeks as lime green eyes settled away from Alfred's face. "Not that I thought of you specifically or anything! I just want some tea right now, and since you're with me, you might as well come along. That's all!"

Alfred let out the breath that had been holding his spine up straight, familiar smile upturning his lips. When he had been younger, Arthur had taken him out for sweets and tea whenever he could. It was a treat that came mostly on special occasions, and it had been the young American's favorite. But as he grew, the trips became less frequent with Arthur's growing schedule until one day, they just stopped altogether. While he would make good on his promise to Basch—after all, a hero never broke his promise!—he supposed a small break couldn't hurt.

"Only if you're buying!"

"Like hell I am!"


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Thank you for the lovely comments and such. Also, I apologize if the story seems choppy already. It's a bit hard to get back into my normal pace of writing after so long, not to mention I am quite terrible at beginnings and I keep forgetting that this is supposed to be mostly in Alfred's POV and not Arthur's.

* * *

Hesitant blue eyes stared at the outline of glass, fingers twitching by his sides. Alfred swallowed around the lump hanging in his throat as the prickle of uncertainty began to rise under his skin. It had been well over three years since he last stepped foot in the café, having been far too busy with training and studying to become a detective. What had once been so joyful now stood unfamiliar.

"What're you doing just standing there? Open the door already," Arthur spoke behind him, tapping the other's shoulder as though to emphasize his words.

Alfred jerked slightly at the touch, body filled with jitters. Gaze focused over his shoulder at the bushy browed man, he nodded, saying with a slight stutter, "R-Right. Open the door." There was a chip in his smile, wavering as his arms reached out.

Opening the glass door, the bell let out a merry jingle to signal their arrival into the small, but quaint shop. Inhaling deeply through his nostrils, Alfred could feel the well of nostalgia beginning to spring inside of him. Even through his nervousness, a wide smile overtook his lips, pushing his cheeks up to accommodate the expression of joy.

"Welcome!" called out a cheerful, feminine voice. One that Alfred recognized quite well. He tensed just slightly as Arthur pushed past him to step forward.

A lovely brunette appeared from the swinging doors of the kitchen, her apron dusted with remnants of flour and a gentle smile resting upon her lips, one that quickly dropped into surprise at the sight of the two men.

"Alfred? Is that you, Alfred Jones?"

Within her words, his apprehension drained through his spine as he sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck, guilt at not visiting the kind woman more often taking its place. She had been like an older sister, perhaps even a motherly figure to him back when he was younger, always doting upon him and hugging the dear life right out of him whenever he came to visit.

"Hi, Elizabeta. Long time no see, huh," he greeted with a small wave. He felt unusually diffident in his movements, worrying that perhaps he was no longer welcomed or that she no longer held that warm affection for him.

Making her way over to them, the skirt of her dress fluttering about with her movements, she pulled the young American into a tight hug that dissipated all his earlier worries. One that Alfred returned, albeit embarrassedly. He was a bit too old for hugs now, it felt like. Although he knew that if he tried to resist, she would only tighten her hold until he gave in. Still, he had to admit that it was nice. Without even realizing it, Alfred had missed her, greatly, and felt relief pouring from his deep under his skin.

As she pulled back from the long awaited embrace, hands still holding onto the sides of his arms, Elizabeta abruptly bopped him upside the head, exclaiming with a rebuking glare, "Just where have you been? You haven't visited at all! Not even once!"

"I'm sorry! I guess I just got caught up in training to be a detective that I sort of just forgot," Alfred explained with a small laugh.

Puffing out her cheeks in disapproval, Elizabeta chided, "Well, you still should have dropped by! Arthur drops by at least once a week while we haven't heard a peep from you since you were about this high!" She held a hand to her chest to illustrate her point before letting out another loud gust of air from between her lips, standing akimbo. "Geez, if it weren't for Arthur, I would have thought that you were as good as dead."

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I promise I'll come by more often now," the blond assured, both hands held up in a means of surrender. "I missed this place." Upon hearing the woman's not so subtle ahem, he quickly added, "And of course, I missed you too."

"Well, it is good to see that you're doing well in the very least. Here, take a seat. I'll go get Roderich. He won't say it, but I know that he's been wondering about what happened to you too," she informed him with a wink, shooing them to their usual table before heading back to the kitchen to fetch her husband.

Watching as she disappeared, Alfred let out a low whistle, saying with a stretch, "Man, it's been so long since I've been here. It's so nostalgic."

Arthur snorted softly as he took a seat at their usual table, the sun warm against his skin. He waited until Alfred sat down across from him before saying, "You're really an idiot. Elizabeta always asks about you whenever I come by. It's annoying for me to always have to tell her about your miserable existence, so you should come here more often."

"Are you just jealous because you get to tell her how much more awesome my life is than yours?" Alfred grinned with too much teeth.

A folded newspaper slapped him point blank in the face, Arthur holding the other end of it. Letting out a huff, the older man muttered as he retracted the paper, "Geez, you really love yourself, don't you?"

"Of course! You have to love yourself before you can love anyone else," stated Alfred firmly with a nod, a hand balling into a fist to further accentuate his statement. The solemnity was quickly broken, however, and replaced with a softened smile, almost faint despite the distinct curl of his lips. "But really, I didn't know that you still came here. I was so focused on becoming a detective that I forgot about everything and everyone. I guess that makes me the bad guy. I feel kind of guilty."

And really, Alfred did feel considerably guilty. Elizabeta and Roderich, her husband, had always made him feel welcomed and loved whenever he came to their store. When Arthur was too busy with work, he would sneak out to visit, just to be around them. Elizabeta would always make him a cup of hot cocoa, and Roderich would always give him a slice of cake, the biggest one—although later, he would always tell him not to eat too many sweets. It always made him feel warm inside, the kind only ever felt within families, and Alfred had always treasured it. The couple had been nothing but kind to him, acting as a surrogate family to him when he had none left. He wished he could have at least remembered to visit, regardless of how busy he had been.

"I really should have visited more."

There was a certain gentleness floating through Arthur's eyes as he regarded the American, mouth opening as though to say something before thinking better and closing instead. Fingers tapping listlessly against the print, he opened his mouth once more, saying anyways, "Well, as long as you visit them more starting from now on, you should be able to make up for it, right? And that way, I won't have to keep telling them how you're doing and you can do it yourself. "

Startled azure eyes focused on Arthur, the blond looking away as though to avoid eye contact. Repeating the thought once more in his mind, Alfred could see what Arthur was attempting to convey to him despite the added layer of pretend annoyance hiding the message. Smile no longer touched with rue, Alfred spoke softly, glasses slipping down his nose, "Yeah."

A clatter of footsteps cut the quiet web of understanding between the two detectives, Elizabeta having returned with her husband in tow as promised.

"Guess who I brought!" she chirped despite having announced the answer before she had left.

Clearing his throat, Roderich nodded politely at the pair, saying gently, "Hello, Arthur, Alfred. It's good to see that both of you are doing well."

"Roderich, hi! It's been a long time. How have you been?" Alfred chimed cheerfully, vocal chords vibrating with the volume of his words. He was happy to see that the older man hadn't seemed to change at all, if looks were anything to go by.

"I've been quite well, thank you. How have you been, Alfred?"

"Pretty good. Really busy though. I joined the police and became a detective but for some reason, I've been stuck doing all the boring jobs. Ah, but I'm finally on a real case! I mean, Arthur's working with me, but I'll definitely solve it before him. Anyways, sorry about not visiting earlier. I got caught up in a lot of things," he rambled, lips stretching into a faint smile at the thought. "But I've missed your cakes! All of your pastries were really delicious. Man, I haven't had any in so long. They really were the best…"

There was a small hint of pride and joy visible in the Austrian, undoubtedly flattered by the compliment. Flustered, as evident by his wife giggling into her hand, he said, voice lifting higher, "Well, in that case, I will bring you a slice of the Esterházy torte that I just made. Would you care for some as well, Arthur?"

Shaking his head, the Brit responded, "No, I'm fine, thanks. I was just going to have a cup of tea, if you don't mind. Besides, even if I got one, that idiot would end up stealing it from me anyways."

"Hey! Roderich's sweets are the best in the world! Of course I would. You always eat so slowly, I can't help it," complained Alfred with a cross-eyed pout.

A small smile adorning his face, Roderich reminded the young blond, "No matter how delicious they may be, you mustn't eat too many sweets."

"But they're so tasty."

"If you're not careful though, you'll become as big as a cow, and then how will you chase after bad guys?" teased Elizabeta, a playful ring jumping in her words.

Alfred hummed in thought, closing his eyes to imagine such a scenario. With a satisfied nod, he replied, "I'd probably be able to roll after them, then. But I'd never let myself get that fat! I'd rather go on a diet of just tomatoes than become as big as a cow." He shuddered at the imagery.

With an airy laugh, the sweet Hungarian woman took her husband's arm, saying, "Well, we better go get your food. Perhaps afterwards, Roderich, you could play the piano."

"I'll second that request," Arthur added, head bobbing in a nod.

Sitting up straight, Alfred tacked on, "Me too! I want to hear you play the piano too!"

"Of course. Playing it would be quite the pleasure," Roderich said in response, unable to refuse the instrument.

"It's settled then!" stated Elizabeta with a clap of her hands to seal the deal. "We'll be right back, so don't the two of you dare go anywhere."

"I swear on Arthur's grave that we won't move," Alfred replied solemnly, face completely blank and jaw rigid.

Thick brows pulling together in annoyance, Arthur leaned forward, swiping the newspaper at Alfred's head again, and missing, with a yell of, "Hey, don't go killing me off as you please!"

Laughter pulling out in a constant string from his throat, Alfred just flashed his white teeth at the Englishman in response. It was always a joy to ruffle the other man's feathers in all the wrong ways at all the right times.

"Honestly, you have the mentality of a five year old," Arthur huffed, unfolding the newspaper to read the fine print underneath the bolded headline.

Elbow propped against the table, Alfred leaned forward in his seat, chin held in the palm of his hand as he surveyed the comforting room. His glasses slipped forward until they were on the edge of his nose, and he pushed them back up the bridge with an absent, relaxed hand.

"Say, Arthur."

"Hm?" He flipped the page with a loud crinkling noise, not bothering to look up.

"Do you ever wonder how Elizabeta and Roderich got married?"

"Not really, no."

"But they're so different! I mean, c'mon, it's kinda weird. Not in a bad way or anything, but they're like total opposites! I just can't imagine it!" Alfred laughed.

Lime green eyes rose from the narrow print to peer over the edge of the newspaper at him long and hard before lowering it with a chuckled sigh. Shaking his head, Arthur remarked with a knowledgeable grin, "That's just because you're still a brat, and brats like you wouldn't understand anything about love."

With accusing eyes, Alfred deadpanned with a snort, "It's not like you've ever been in love to know."

"Sh-Shut up, you git! I know plenty about love!"

"Hmmm, I don't think you do."

"Oh, are the two of you in love?" came a teasing voice from above that drew both their gazes over.

"Surely you don't mean with _him_," Arthur said, blanching at the very thought. "That's preposterous!"

Alfred nodded vigorously, making a face with puckered lips. "Yeah! That's just gross! I mean, he's not even a girl, and even if he was, I doubt that he'd be very pretty… Especially with those crazy eyebrows of his."

"Wha…! How dare you! I'd make a lovely girl! And besides, you're the one that should be the girl, if anything! You're younger than me, and out of the two of us, I'm a gentleman while you're nothing more than an oversized child."

"Ahh, I'm tired of hearing that excuse. Can't you come up with something more original?"

With a giggle, she set the plates and cups down with a small clink against the wooden table, relaying, "Here you boys go. Tea and scones for Arthur. Coffee and torte for Alfred. And for the record, I don't think there'd be anything wrong for just the two of you to be in love without either one being a girl." She gave a saucy wink before sauntering away with a good laugh, leaving the pair to splutter after.

A silence, filled with the soft melody of Chopin, settled into the air.

"There's no way I would ever love you," stated the Englishman after a moment's pause, taking the delicate cup between precise fingers and lifting it up to his lips.

"I hate you," Alfred supplied helpfully with a mouthful of torte, crumbs tumbling out from his mouth and across the table.

And somehow, Alfred couldn't help the thought that this sort of situation perhaps suited them best. One where emotions wouldn't be thrown around so carelessly, and everything could be taken at face value of the act. Really, things between them had changed so drastically between when he had been a child and now.

"The two of you are so adorable," Elizabeta declared brightly, rejoining them as she sat down between the two men with a cup of coffee in her own hands. Face glossing with reminiscent fondness, she spoke blithely, "Ahhh, I remember what it was like to be young like you two… Mmmh, what great days those were."

"Elizabeta, you're only two years older than me."

"Oh, is that so?" She laughed without any shame at Arthur's declaration. "Well, when you get to my age, you start seeing the world differently. I suppose when you've been through so much, you can't help but see it another way."

"Why on Earth are you speaking so nostalgically?" Arthur mumbled with a cocked brow, taking another sip of tea.

"I thought you'd agree with me, Arthur. After all, we've both known the hardships that life can toss in our way. You, especially, should know what it feels like. How the world can change so drastically before your very eyes without warning."

"No, I don't know," he replied tersely.

"Really now. So then, everything that happened before, with—"

"Elizabeta, no."

"You can't change the past, Arthur, and you can't deny that you haven't been quite the same after what happened—"

"Stop your damn mouth!" Arthur ordered, cheeks flushed red as he slammed his hands on the table while standing to his feet, knocking over his cup, liquid pooling into a formless puddle.

There was a hardness to his eyes that Alfred had never before seen, taken back by how harsh and raw the normally composed Arthur looked. It was foreign, that emotion melding so forcefully in those green eyes. He didn't understand it. It was a side of Arthur he had never seen in all their years together, and something in his chest tightened at the thought that he had missed something crucial in the older man's life. Something he had never been privy to. A secret that Arthur had willingly not shared. In the back of his mind, he realized distantly that he could no longer hear the mellifluous piano tones, the volatile voice having undoubtedly stopped Roderich's hands from gliding across the keys.

The silence looming between them, Elizabeta put down her own cup with a steady hand, holding her ground evenly as she fixed stern green eyes on the incensed man. She seemed hardly fazed by his outburst, speaking with austerity, "There is nothing to be so angered over, Arthur. No matter how a memory may end, the life it lived is always a joyous thing in itself, is it not?"

Arthur gritted his teeth, jaw clenched tightly and his fingers curled against the wooden surface. With a keen eye, Alfred could see the way his entire body tensed up, muscles all held together by one long taut rope that threatened to snap. He didn't know how to react, wide blue eyes only flittering from Elizabeta to Arthur and back.

What was it between these two that he didn't know? That he wasn't allowed to know?"

"It doesn't matter. It's not something I want you or anyone bringing up," Arthur shot back, a growl to his words.

Her eyes narrowed sharply. "How do you expect to live if you leave all the memories that define who you are now? Don't you think it's disrespectful, to those people and those feelings?"

That constricted, curled emotion burning dimly and concealed, Alfred recognized it: Arthur wasn't just angry. He was genuinely wounded.

Straightening himself out, Arthur regarded the woman with cold eyes, enough to chill Alfred despite not being on the receiving end of the glare. He spoke just as callously, words harsh and brusque, "That is none of your concern, Elizabeta."

Arthur turned on his heels and walked away, roughly pushing open the doors with a noisy clatter.

Alfred turned from the other's retreating figure, blurred through the glass, back to Elizabeta. Despite her earlier vigor, she looked contrite and weary, the smile loose and weak.

"Elizabeta… what just happened between the two of you?" he asked, breath kept hostage between his lungs. He wanted to understand what was going on. He wanted to know just what sort of hurt Arthur had been fostering all this time, without his realizing.

"I may have been out of line this time," she admitted softly. Roderich approached, concern radiating from his very being as he placed a hand on her shoulder to ease her guilt. He seemed to understand while Alfred was the only one kept out of the loop. It frustrated him to no end.

"What do you mean by that?" he pushed, impatient.

"I'm not surprised that he hasn't told you, Alfred, and while I know that you're probably curious to know, it's not my story to tell. You'd just better go after him," she remarked as she stood.

"But…!"

Roderich shook his head. "You will come to understand, Alfred, if Arthur so wishes it."

Alfred didn't bother to argue that Arthur would probably never tell him, realizing it was futile. With a deep, breathy sigh, he got up to his feet, following the couple to the exit. It was a bit shocking, to realize that underneath that arrogance, pigheadedness, and annoyance, there was a side of Arthur that he had still yet to see. That he had never known the existence of while it seemed as though everyone else had. He felt betrayed, despite the silliness of the notion. After all, it wasn't as though he and Arthur were that close anymore. If it hadn't been for Arthur visiting at least once every two weeks to check up on him, Alfred wouldn't have ever sought him out. As a matter of fact, he hadn't even started regularly talking with his former guardian until he joined the police. Of course there would be things that Arthur would hide from him. Of course there would be things that he didn't know about Arthur. It was no longer his business, after all.

Body going limp, he could feel his heart clench, his own pettiness unsightly to even him.

"Alfred," called out the brunette, standing by the counter with Roderich by her side.

He craned his neck around, halfway through the door with one hand holding it back. "What is it?"

"Take good care of him."

"Him?" Confusion touched upon Alfred's expression as he knitted his brows together before exclaiming, "You mean Arthur?"

Elizabeta only smiled in a way that left the American feeling hollow. With a stretch of his lips, forcing the smile to hold, he nodded.

"Of course I will."

"Take care," she said with a wave as Alfred bundled out the door, disappearing into the general direction that they had seen Arthur go earlier. The door swept shut with a gust of cold air and the familiar jingle of bells twinkling in their ears.

"It is good to see that Alfred is doing well."

Elizabeta nodded without turning to look at the man. "Yes, it is," she echoed.

"Do you think… do you think that he will be all right?" he asked, carrying a hint of doubt lingering with the syllables.

With a hopeful smile, shadowed by unwilling pain, a small, slender hand sought out its partner. She gripped tight as she spoke, the corner of her smile vacillating, "I do not think that things will turn out the same way with Alfred as they did for Arthur. I'm sure that he will be fine, Roderich. After all, that boy was always a strong one."

Closing his own eyes with a hum, Roderich agreed, "Yes. I suppose you're right."


End file.
